


In Your Hands

by Afoolforatook



Series: An Anthology of Affection [8]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Body Worship, Established Relationship, Hand Massage, Hands, M/M, No Beta, Porn with Feelings, Qrow is a doting boyfriend, Rating will change in Ch 3, Trans!Clover, touch sensitivity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25080232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Afoolforatook/pseuds/Afoolforatook
Summary: It's an ebb and flow.Neither can give more than they have.Sometimes they have to let themselves just get.Though exactly what they'll get might not always be what they expected.*Rating changes to M starting Ch 3*-------Part 8Saw a post of kissing prompts. Liked a bunch of them. Decided to give myself a daily challenge to get myself actually publishing things while I work on bigger projects.One prompt a day. Under 1500 words (or close to it).
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: An Anthology of Affection [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805008
Comments: 37
Kudos: 57





	1. Taking Turns

**Author's Note:**

> Current T+ rating is for the second chapter, and may possibly get pushed to M.

Prompt 8 - Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand.

In Your Hands Ch 1. Taking Turns

\-------------

Clover had always been a hard worker. He’d spent his life pushing to prove that his success, his worth, was based on more than just his semblance. Growing up he’d told himself he had to be perfect. By the time he realized that wasn’t possible, he’d formed new habits.

Running himself ragged, always worrying there was more he should be able to do, was one of the worst. And because of all his practice at it, one of the easiest to hide.

Except from Qrow.

They couldn’t hide their ragged edges from each other. Maybe that’s what made them such a good match. They saw the cracks in the other, oftentimes much easier than either would have liked. But they didn’t balk as they found frayed thread after frayed thread. They just sat down and helped the other man mend himself.

But some days they could just tell.

Some days they’d see the other and know that what he needed right then wasn’t their guiding support, but rather their complete care. Sometimes they stood by each other’s side and promised they’d be there every step of the way.

And sometimes they just curled around the other, sheltering him from the rest of the world, and whispering over and over how much he was loved.

Qrow knew the moment he stepped into Clover’s room that today was the latter.

As he opened the door he was surprised to see the lights still on. Usually, by the time Qrow came over in the evenings, Clover was getting ready for bed, lights already mostly out.

But they were all on. And Clover wasn’t getting out of the shower or making sure his uniform and gear were ready for the next morning, or any other part of his nightly routine.

Instead, he was sitting on the couch, long cold cup of coffee sitting close enough to the edge of the coffee table to make Qrow nervous.

Clover was wearing his glasses and pouring over a stack of papers, his scroll propped up on a stand in front of even more files. Qrow could tell by the disheveled state of his bangs, nearly falling in his face, with the rest of his hair pushed in different directions, that he’d been sitting there, frustrated, for a while.

Qrow slowly padded over to the couch, lowering himself beside his partner.

Clover made no indication that he’d noticed Qrow’s arrival, flipping over a paper and mumbling something about wrong dates and stupid mistakes.

Qrow leaned forward, carefully nudging the coffee mug a good few inches from the edge of the table. Then he sat back, his hand going to cup the base of Clover’s skull, his thumb brushing through the short, slightly cowlicked, strands of hair.

“Hey there, Captain. Work come home with you?” He joked but his voice was soft and kind.

Clover started slightly, looking up at Qrow finally; but only for a moment, before turning back to the paper in his hands.

“Oh! Hey. Yeah, sorry… just have to… I made a dumb mistake in a report earlier and need to fix some things.” he said, his voice strained with annoyance.

He took one hand from his work though, reaching and pulling Qrow’s hand from his hair and pressing a quick gentle kiss too.

“You go ahead and get ready for bed and I’ll be there in a bit. I need to finish this first.” He said before biting at his lip and squinting at something on the page in confusion.

Qrow frowned slightly as he looked down at Clover’s hand still holding his.

He was still in his full uniform.

And wearing his gloves. That settled it for Qrow.

Clover very rarely wore his gloves for long after getting home. And especially if he was tired and doing paperwork.

His hands were sensitive and easily ticklish and he wore the gloves at work to provide a bit of grounding pressure against his palms and avoid any random discomfort. It wasn’t that he never wore them off duty, they weren’t, after all, a part of his uniform but a personal effect.

But just around the house he usually took them off. And he didn’t usually like the encumberment of the extra fabric when he was trying to flip through papers.

For him to still be wearing them right then proved to Qrow that there was more going on.

He carefully took Clover’s hand in both of his, gently starting to massage it ever so slightly. “Cloves, how long have you been working on this.”

Qrow had missed dinner that night, helping the kids with a quick mission in Mantle. He had a sneaking suspicion that Clover hadn’t made it either, but without the excuse of a mission.

Clover shrugged, still not looking away from his work. “Eh. Since I got out of my meeting with the general?” He replied, obviously not really sure, or caring.

“Clover. That meeting was at 4. It’s nearly midnight.” Qrow said, restraining his own concern and frustration.

Clover glanced quickly at the clock on the wall. “Huh. Guess so. Well, this should only take another hour or so.”

“Have you eaten?”

He just nodded towards the coffee cup and a couple abandoned crackers.

“That doesn’t count, Clover.”

“It’s fine. Not really hungry.” Clover mumbled, reaching over to check something on his scroll.

Qrow sighed, leaning forward and slowly lowering the papers in Clover’s hands.

“Okay, Boy Scout. How about we leave the rest of this for in the morning and go on to bed?” Qrow asked gently, running his thumb along the back of Clover’s hand.

Clover just shook his head and ducked away, moving his papers close again. “I can’t, Qrow. I need to finish this tonight. It’s just one little mistake I’ve got to fix.”

“Is that mistake going to get someone killed before morning?” His voice was steady but his heart ached as he got a good look at Clover’s face for the first time.

His eyes behind his glasses were underlined with shallow bags and his brow was strained. His lips looked dry and red where he had been chewing anxiously.

“What? No.. I just..” Clover’s eyes flitted over all the paper still in front of him and Qrow saw him start to wilt.

“I made a stupid little mistake in a report and got dates flipped and had to redo a file that had been filled out based on it. And that didn’t take too long… but then I got worried that I might have done something similar in other places. So I need to check back through all these files and reports and make sure I didn’t miss something else stupid like that.” The words tumbled from him, practically in one breath, and he again went back to his scroll.

Qrow watched him for a moment before reaching up and slipping his glasses from his face, folding them, and placing them on the table.

“Hey!" Clover snapped, bristling as he gripped the paper tighter and looked at Qrow in frustration. When he saw his boyfriend's gentle look though he softened, sighing.

"Qrow, please. I need to fix this. I… I fucked up a tiny little thing. I should have caught it. It’s such a stupid little mistake. I should have been more thorough and checked bac-” He winced suddenly, hand flying to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

“Migraine?”

“I’m fine. I’ll just finish a few mor-”

Qrow stopped him, his face hard-set but caring. “Clover. You’re done. Your turn.”

Clover stopped at that, holding Qrow’s gaze for the first time.

‘Your turn.’

It was their little way of asking the other to trust them. To let themselves be taken care of. To let go of everything else for a little while and take a moment to just get; stop trying to give when they had nothing left.

“Qrow…” It was a pleading statement… one last attempt at holding onto the needs of the rest of the world instead of his own.

Qrow reached over, slowly pulling the last of the papers from Clover’s grip and laying them on the stack on the table. Then he moved his hand over, stretching across Clover’s lap, and turned his scroll off.

He sat back up, taking Clover’s hand as he turned, draping one leg over the edge of the couch as he sat back against the arm. He tugged gently, urging Clover towards him.

“C’mere, Cloves. Let’s see if we can get rid of that migraine.”

Clover hesitated for one last moment before giving in and following him. He scooted over until he was comfortably between Qrow’s legs. Letting out a slow sigh he placed a hand flat against Qrow’s chest, tucking the other under his chin as he leaned against the older man, ear pressed to his collarbone.

“There we go.” Qrow purred, leaning his head against the top of Clover’s as he slid his hand under the one pressed to his chest, his other arm wrapping around his hip.

He lifted Clover’s hand to his lips and placed a tender brush of a kiss to the bare patch of skin above the strap of his glove. Lowering their hands again, Qrow started to undo the strap, sliding the worn leather glove over calloused fingers.

He marveled for a moment, not for the first time, at the difference in their hands. Where Qrow’s own were pale, slender, lithe, but marked with decades of a hard life; Clover’s were large, tan, hardly scarred, but tough with callouses and scuffs from a life of equally hard work. It wasn’t that Clover’s hands were that much bigger than Qrow’s, just heftier.

And Qrow knew they were where Clover held much of his own tension and anxiety. He knew that despite their apparent strength and coarseness they were gentle, careful, sensitive; just as the rest of the Atlesian was underneath his professional demeanor.

Qrow felt eyes on him and smiled down at the man pressed against him.

“Close your eyes, Shamrock. Just relax.”

And he easily complied, his weight shifting, further melting into Qrow’s embrace.


	2. Pressure Points

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pushes and pulls.
> 
> Tension and relief. 
> 
> Tender care that smothers you in its enormity. 
> 
> Pressure and delicate touch is a balance, grounded in trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter, the rating will change to M, just a heads up. But the first two chapters are T rated.
> 
> Original prompt: Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand.

Qrow moved his fingers carefully across tanned skin; mirroring the position of his thumb and forefinger against Clover’s palm and the back of his hand. He pushed a smooth, firm, line along a tendon, feeling for a pressure point.

Clover let out a small hiss as Qrow hit a tender spot but within a moment his shoulders had given slightly, starting to release some of the tension held there.

Qrow could already see the tightness in the other man’s brow start to melt away, as he methodically pinched and rubbed, easing up when he saw a twinge of pain at an overly tender spot. He pressed his thumb into the back of Clover’s hand, dipping between knuckles and pulling firmly along the soft pads of his fingers, as if drawing the tension out through calloused fingertips.

He felt Clover sink further into his chest, the stiffness in his shoulders waning with every slow, measured, breath. Every so often there would be the softest whisper of a relieved moan that escaped the younger man, as his body slowly unwound its knotted stress at Qrow’s caring touch.

Qrow watched in silence as Clover relaxed, eventually laying down the hand he had been working on and moving to the other.

Finally, Clover sighed and opened his eyes, nuzzling his face against Qrow’s chest.

“I think I’m good.” His voice was quiet, tired, heavy with the last lingering weight of stress.

He lifted his free hand and laid it against Qrow’s cheek, grinning at the rough feel of stubble against the still tender skin of his palm.

“Thank you...” He paused, tucking his head under Qrow’s chin. “Sorry… I just couldn’t stop worrying that-”

He stopped as Qrow gave his hand a quick, firm, squeeze.

“Let’s talk about that later. For now how about I fix you a glass of water and see if I can convince you to eat something more than stale crackers.”

Qrow knew Clover would talk and vent as long as he would listen, and once, Qrow would have let him. He would have thought that it must help him if he was so eager to talk like that. But where talking things through often helped Qrow ground himself among his racing thoughts, it was different with Clover. Qrow talked to get it out; to release some of the pressure of the thoughts crowding his head. But Clover talked to make sense. He couldn’t keep himself from thinking about it all as he vented, and when he was tired and still coming down, it ended up only refueling the anxiety he’d just worked to suppress.

Clover sighed again and nodded into Qrow’s neck, though he didn’t move to let him up.

Qrow let them stay like that for a few minutes, draping his arms around Clover’s waist and dropping his cheek to rest against soft brown wavy locks.

When he heard a stifled yawn he gave in, prodding Clover to sit up.

“Okay, Boy Scout. Time for bed. Lemme up.”

Clover whined begrudgingly as his pillow shifted out from under him. But he could tell Qrow was right. He needed to eat. His throat was dry. If he fell asleep right then he’d just wake up with another migraine in the morning.

He pushed himself up from the couch and shuffled after Qrow over to the small pantry in his suite. Qrow was pulling down a glass and looking for something simple for him to eat.

He didn’t turn away from his search as he spoke to Clover.

“You go get changed and ready for bed and I’ll get this ready.”

Clover agreed, but only after walking up behind Qrow and snaking his arms under his arms and crossing over his chest, giving the man a gentle squeeze and a light kiss on the back of his shoulder. Then he turned towards the bathroom, starting to undo the buttons of his uniform.

\---------

A few minutes later Clover left the bathroom; shirtless, academy sweatpants low on his hips, and uniform folded over his arm. He laid it on his dresser before turning to see a plate with two folded peanut butter and honey sandwiches and a tall glass of ice water waiting for him on the table. His stomach rumbled and he realized how hungry he really was. Sitting down, he forced himself to finish the sandwiches slowly, taking a few sips of water between bites.

Finally, he finished both sandwiches and the water and stood, walking over to the couch, where Qrow had straightened up his papers and was now looking at his hands in thought.

Clover draped his arms around Qrow’s neck as he leaned over the back of the couch. He hummed, his heart stuttering as he saw the familiar brown leather against soft pale skin.

“Do they not quite fit?” He teased into Qrow’s ear.

“Guess I’m just more dainty than you.” Qrow quipped, leaning his head back against Clover’s shoulder.

“I mean, have you seen your legs?” came the playful response, Clover reaching down to squeeze at Qrow’s slender, dense, thigh.

Qrow laughed and pushed his hand away in mock annoyance, turning around in his hold so that he was facing backward on the couch, his elbows on the back as Clover pulled him close to his chest by the shoulders.

Qrow leaned forward, resting his chin against Clover’s, and grinning as he met soft teal eyes,

“Ready to go to bed?”

“Yeah.” Clover nodded, leaning forward to kiss Qrow, but being pushed back.

“Did you eat? And finish that water?” Qrow asked, eyebrow raised sarcastically.

“Yes, mom.” He leaned again, still chasing Qrow’s lips. And again he was stopped.

“And brushed your teeth?” He smirked fully, snark dripping from every word.

“Sorry. Yes, _mama bird_ ”

Qrow squinted at him and rolled his eyes, but gave in, pulling him close by the back of his neck and giving him a quick kiss.

He laughed in surprise as Clover lifted him off the couch, spinning them around and taking a few steps before setting Qrow back on the floor by his side of the bed.

Qrow paused to undo the loose gloves and laid them beside Clover's uniform on the dresser, before he slipped into bed and settled into warm sheets, sitting with his back propped against his pillow.

Clover walked around to the other side and climbed in after him. And after a moment’s hesitation, he scrambled over to Qrow’s side of the bed, nudging for him to move his lanky legs, so that Clover could comfortably situate himself between them, right in front of Qrow. He wiggled down contentedly, bare back pressed flush to the soft t-shirt over Qrow’s chest, his head dropping back onto his shoulder.

Qrow quirked an eyebrow.

“Can I help you?” He asked, no real annoyance in his voice.

“You’re comfy.” Clover mumbled, reaching to pull Qrow’s arms around him, folding them over his stomach and cupping the pale slender hands over his. He snuggled back again, tilting his head to press a small kiss to Qrow’s chin.

“Just want to lay like this for a bit. Then I’ll let you move around all night.”

Qrow huffed an affectionate laugh and curled his fingers, thrumming them over Clover’s stomach teasingly.

“Whatever you say, Lucky Charm.”

Clover chuckled and pushed his hand away lightly before settling again.

After a while Qrow started to doze off, thinking that Clover already had, as the younger man lay quietly against his chest. And then Clover pushed a hand between Qrow’s, knuckles nudging against his palm.

“Hmm?” Qrow hummed, opening his eyes.

“Can you do that again? Rubbing my hand?”

Qrow looked down in concern “Migraine back?”

Clover shook his head, pushing again at Qrow’s hand. “No, I’m fine. Just liked it.”

Qrow smiled and obliged, taking Clover’s hand in his and pressing against a spot that had seemed particularly tender earlier.

Clover winced and jerked his hand away reflexively, Qrow following suit, eyes wide. The pain passed quickly and Clover found him again.

“Sorry, just still kinda sore. Um… Just.. don’t push like before. Just rub, I guess?”

Qrow nodded, taking his hand again and pulling his fingers along the outlines of veins. Clover hummed, with just the hint of a laugh at the tickling sensation.

“Y-you could do a little pressure, so it doesn’t tickle. Just not the massage.”

Qrow did so and felt the new hum reverberate through Clover, into his own chest.

“Y-yeah. That’s good.” His voice was velvet smooth with comfortable ease.

Qrow continued like that for a while, smiling as Clover nuzzled tighter against him.

Eventually, Qrow noticed the happy hums turn to something slightly different.

The tiniest bit like a moan.


	3. Wants and Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the strongest people can come apart with the softest touch. 
> 
> When you spend your life taking care of everyone else, the simple question
> 
> "What do you need?" 
> 
> Can be all it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yuppp, firmly M here on out. 
> 
> (also, never really relevant to say outright here, but I do kinda picture Qrow in this as AMAB nonbinary (I almost always picture him as trans but exact identity flips around sometimes))

Qrow watched as a flush started to trickle across Clover’s cheeks. He noted how his eyes would flutter closed as the long fingers grazed along his palm, a light weight; pulling along with a subtle pressure. 

Something curled - like a creeping, licking, fire - in Qrow’s stomach as he watched Clover’s face shift between soft comfort and delicately pinched pleasure.

He paused once more, continuing to watch Clover carefully, before moving gently; testing his assumption. 

Qrow let his fingers drag lazily along Clover’s palm before pulling one down slowly, trailing with consistent pressure down to his pulse. 

He felt Clover jolt slightly and heard the small gasp, though his eyes stayed closed. 

“Still good, there, sunshine?” 

Clover nodded, eyes opening slightly to peek up at Qrow, a soft smile tugging at his lips. 

“Y-yeah.” There was the tiniest waiver to his voice, which sent shivers down Qrow’s spine. 

“Mhmm..” Qrow hummed thoughtfully. 

He raised his other hand and turned Clover’s over, resting the back of it against his left palm. Then, with his free hand, he rested his fingers against the heel of Clover’s palm. Slowly he dragged them up, the top of his nails against soft skin. He felt Clover stiffen ever so slightly at the almost too light touch. And then in one quick motion Qrow turned his hand, pulling his fingers down so just the tips of his nails raked across Clover’s palm. 

Clover inhaled sharply through his nose, back straightening for a moment. 

Qrow smirked. 

“Too much? Want me to stop?” he asked kindly, fingers hovering just over skin.

Clover’s palm curled around Qrow’s fingers instantly as he shook his head. 

“No! _No_ … ‘s good.” He replied, his voice low and heady. 

Qrow chuckled, uncurling Clover’s hand and trailing his fingertips in wandering paths across his palm. He could feel the shaky breathing against his chest, and the hitch whenever he would touch an especially sensitive area. 

That flame continued to grow in Qrow’s stomach as he watched that beautiful blush continue to flood Clover’s cheeks. 

He moved his right hand, running his fingers gently from Clover’s wrist, all the way up his arm. The brunet trembled at the sensation, a soft gasp falling from his lips. 

Qrow grinned, raising the pliant hand in his grip to his face. He hovered his lips over Clover’s knuckles and spoke with a quiet, deep, rumble in his throat. 

“Sure you’re feeling alright, Cloves?” There was a teasing lilt to his voice as he dotted gentle kisses on each of the other man’s knuckles. 

“You look a little flushed.” He feigned innocence as he pressed a little harder, raking his nails up the length of Clover’s bicep. 

The man whimpered. Actually, pitifully, whimpered; his free hand gripping at Qrow’s chest as a shiver coursed through him. His head, which had lulled back against Qrow’s shoulder, turned, cheek pressing to the soft fabric of Qrow’s shirt. His breath rolling over Qrow’s neck in hot, heavy, waves as his it began to come in slow measured pants; like he was trying to resist the urge to completely unravel.

Qrow pulled a mock frown, taking his lips from Clover’s hand. 

“Well, maybe I should let you go ahead and get some rest if you still feel bad?” He paused, moving his hand from Clover’s arm to run over his hair soothingly. His voice was more tender as he spoke again. “I’ll even let you sleep right there if you want.” 

And really, it was genuine. He was having his bit of fun, but he knew Clover had had a rough day, and maybe some much-needed rest would be the best thing. He pressed a loving kiss to the back of his hand, easily dropping his teasing air for the moment. 

Clover looked up at him with a languid gaze, his expression a heart-stopping mix of weighty hunger and surrendered vulnerability. There was a glint of something in the familiar seafoam that peered at him from under heavy lids that acted as bellows to the tendrils of flame licking their way through Qrow’s body. 

“ _Q-qrow_.” The word was stuck between a pleading whine and a growl, and it was Clover’s turn to smirk, as he felt the body beneath his tremble in the wake of it. 

Qrow smiled and wrapped his arm around Clover again, pressing him back against his own chest, fingers trailing a tickling line down the thin strip of soft hair that ran along his stomach before disappearing into his sweats. The movement received a satisfying squirm in response. Qrow raised Clover’s hand again, resting his lips against the soldier’s pulse. 

“Hmmm. Well, alright.” Qrow hummed as he laid a gentle kiss onto the raised outline of a vein, lips pulling up as he whispered. 

“That color on your cheeks _does_ look very pretty, now that I think about it.” One long searing caress; not even kissing, just dragging the soft skin of his lips, and the heavy humidity of his breath, up along the edge of Clover’s thumb. 

The hand twitched, Clover’s eyes fluttering back closed as his mouth opened slightly, a breathy sigh escaping him. 

Qrow preened, turning Clover’s wrist a bit further as his lips grazed over the calloused pad of his thumb. He moved his other hand back to Clover’s right arm, pulling it gently from his chest and turning it so the inside of his wrist and elbow were exposed. He lightly thrummed his fingertips along the soft skin as he walked his hand up and down the length of the freckled arm, stopping now and then to pinch, or rake his nails, ever so slightly at the crook of his elbow. 

“ _A-aaah_ …” Voice wavering in a trailing moan, Clover’s fist clenched. He wanted to clutch at the bedsheet, but he couldn’t stand to hide any inch of skin from Qrow’s delicate, scorching touch. 

“Mmmm. And such a nice voice too.” Qrow’s voice lilting as he moved to press the very tip of every finger between his lips for just a moment; the soft clicks of each kiss suddenly very loud as Clover’s held breath drew a vacuum around them. 

After giving each calloused pad the proper attention, Qrow made his way back down, his thumb pressing firmly just below Clover’s wrist as he grazed his nose lovingly down his palm. 

He nudged once more at the other man’s pulse, noting how it raced. As he hovered his lips over the sensitive patch of skin, the heavy, damp, warmth of his breath threatened to drown Clover’s senses. 

Then, in one fluid movement, the tip of his tongue darted out, parted lips barely grazing Clover’s skin as he ran a wet stripe up; over his pulse, the heel of his palm, dipping and pausing for just a moment at the particularly sensitive center, over every knuckle, straight up his middle finger until he reached the soft pad. 

Clover’s surprised gasp was choked off, turning to a desperate, breathy “ _F-uuuu-!_ ” as Qrow’s teeth nipped at the bit of raised, supple skin, lips curling around and leaving the area damp. It was just light enough to leave a lingering sensation of delicate touch but hard enough that, as Qrow pulled away, Clover could feel his heart racing in the tiny patch of nerves. 

Qrow smiled devilishly down at him, placing a soft, soothing kiss to the pad, just barely pulling it between his lips once more; the click of soft slick skin like a long lost syllable; reserved for the most sacred of devotions. 

He nuzzled his nose and cheek against Clover’s palm as he spoke quietly, knowingly letting the soft skin brush against the course stubble along his jaw. 

“Hm? What was that, Shamrock?” 

Clover whined, the sound dangerously heady. And Qrow’s chest seized as he felt him shift his hips. Looking down he noticed the slight tremble of Clover’s thighs; the subtle strain of muscle under his sweatpants as he pressed them together eagerly. 

Qrow’s entire body was on fire now, aware of every inch of contact between them. He had known, of course, that Clover was especially sensitive in certain places. And he knew that his hands and arms were among those areas. But he’d never seen him like this before; coming undone so quickly from only trailing touches and gentle nips. 

So often it was Clover fawning over him; taking him apart at the seams with a tender compassion that Qrow never thought he’d crave like that, let alone deserve. 

But seeing Clover like this, seeing him soft and needy, and completely entrusting the most sensitive parts of himself to Qrow; it ignited new fires in him that he hadn’t previously thought to look for. 

He eased his teasing again, rubbing comfortingly at Clover’s shoulder as he laced their fingers together. He moved his free hand to smooth over Clover’s hair, noting the first beads of sweat that clung to his brow. He pulled his partner closer, curling around him ever so slightly as he whispered into his hair, his thumb pulling over the knuckles that he held against his chest... 

“What do _you want_ , Cloves? Like I said; it’s _your turn_.” 

‘Your turn’. They had their ways of taking care of each other emotionally. And Qrow knew how much Clover enjoyed taking gentle care of him when it came to physical intimacy as well. But it wasn’t until that moment that he fully understood it. The selfless longing to meticulously, tenderly, take your love apart, while holding them together all the while. All he wanted in that warm, precious moment, was to show Clover how special he was; how intoxicating his kindness, his gentleness, his simple act of being, was. 

Clover keened at the familiar words; the sound coming from him nearly a cry. His hips pressed back against Qrow as he squeezed his knees together desperately. The pressure was enough to grant Qrow an all too pleasant friction himself, but he backed away carefully, ignoring the subtle strain against his boxers.

He ducked his head, mouthing at the juncture of Clover’s neck and jaw, right under his ear. The hand still intertwined with his partner’s was clutched to his chest, as his free fingers trailed down the long line of Clover’s neck. They followed the column of muscle down until dipping at the hollow, then spreading out along his collar bone. 

“C’mon, my pretty charm. Tell me what you want. What do you need right now?” He stopped, sucking for a moment at the base of his ear before letting go with an echoing pop. 

He wasn’t used to talking like this so much, as it was usually Clover’s lilting string of praise and encouragement that slowly undid Qrow: leaving his own head too fuzzy with pleasure to get out more than a few snippy jokes or pleading moans. 

But it came easily to him now, seeing Clover like this. There was no awkward worry tugging at the back of his mind as he might have expected. It wasn’t about him or how he sounded to himself. It was about Clover. It was about finding the little things that found their way under his skin and set his nerves alight, like the sight of him was currently doing to Qrow.

“ _Please_ , Clover. _Let me take care of you_.” His voice was dark and rough; a rumbling of thunder. But no lightning came. Instead, as the sound settled in the air, it flowed out, like a gentle wave nudging Clover towards safe harbor. 

And now the sound that escaped him was a cry; a shaky, helpless whimper, as his back curled in closer to Qrow again, his hips jerking fiercely. The sound died on his lips and turned to a breathless moan, within which Qrow could barely catch the mind-numbing sound of his own name. 

“ _Qr-qrooo- **!**_ ” 

“I’m right here, baby. Just tell me what you need.” He cooed as he mouthed again at Clover’s pulse, miraculously keeping his own voice steady, even as Clover’s soft, fragile, sounds bore into his chest, leaving every bit of him a tangled, intricate, mess. A labyrinthine pathway to his very core that the man lying against him managed to navigate with such seeming ease.

Clover gasped brightly. 

“Th- _that_. Just… _fuck_ … Qrow… Just _don’t stop that_.” He whined, free hand flying back to grip at Qrow’s shoulder. 

Qrow smiled, taking a moment to suck at the racing rhythm of Clover’s pulse, teeth grazing skin for a fraction of a second.

“Hmm? Like that?” He asked warmly. 

“ _Yeh-yes..._ ” 

Qrow hummed, rapping his fingers along the side of the arm now reaching back towards him. He lazily dragged his nails along the inside of the taught muscle of his forearm, as he pecked chaste kisses to each of the freckles speckling Clover’s other arm. 

“Mmm. Is that what you need, Lucky Charm? You need me to be soft and teasing?” He dipped his nails down, just barely grazing the pressure right past the bend of his elbow and up, drawing small circles around the bottom of his bicep.

“Never letting you know when or where I’m going to give you gentle kisses.” 

He ran his nose up the length of Clover’s forearm, tracing veins, and placing a delicate kiss here and there. 

“Or little bites?”

In an instant, Qrow returned to Clover’s wrist, his tongue flicking across the delicate skin above his pulse before carefully closing his teeth down around the spot, a subtle hollow to his cheeks. 

“ _F-Fuckkk. Qr- **qr-row!**_ ” Clover gasped as the sudden pressure caught him off guard. His back arched slightly from Qrow’s chest, his hips shifting back to support his weight, the grip on Qrow’s shoulder tightening instantly. 

Between the heady call of his name and the press against him as Clover squirmed, Qrow couldn’t catch himself in time to stop his hips from jerking forward desperately. Clover practically purred at the firm pressure against his back, grinding back towards it. And before Qrow could retreat again, Clover was shaking, breath coming in stuttering gasps. 

Qrow looked down at him, eyes wide and slightly glassy as the shaking faded and Clover took a long, shallow breath. 

“ _Fuck_ … Cloves? Did you just…”

The Atlesian nodded, panting softly, the slightest tremor still running through him as he relaxed back against Qrow. 

“ _Gods..._ “ Qrow sighed, his head falling back, one hand falling to his side while the other still clutched Clover’s gently to his chest. He scrunched his eyes shut to try to ignore the still growing friction in his boxers, something becoming more difficult with every second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, would'ya look at that... spicy hands is what put me of 50k published...... 
> 
> AgainblameRenabe - for getting me to think about hands....
> 
> But honestly... I really enjoyed the unexpected route this prompt took, even though I was a little hesitant at writing this kind of thing, and this is by far the most explicit I've ever written so... it was an interesting challenge that I'm pretty happy with... if not still a little nervous about...

**Author's Note:**

> This was gonna be all one spicy chapter and then the tender lead up got long so I decided to split it. 
> 
> \--------------  
> There were 50 prompts originally, but I've already thought of a few more. Also had multiple ideas for a few, which is why some might be listed as chapter 1, with a future version of the prompt coming later.
> 
> Might not end up sticking strictly to the daily thing, but I'll do my best. Either way, here's an ongoing series of little moments.
> 
> Original prompt list - https://kashimalin-fanfiction.tumblr.com/post/178524845380/50-types-of-kisses-writing-prompts
> 
> Might edit here and there later, but the goal here was to just finish something, even if it's not perfectly polished.


End file.
